Owen
Moderator Emeritus
So.
I almost shot someone last night.
I was lying in bed reading around 12:20, when I heard a knock on my back door. I inquired "Who's There!!" "!" and didn't hear a response, but the person knocked again. I grabbed the ol' GLOCKenspiel, and walked to the door.
When the person knocked again, I again asked who it was. The person on the other side of the door groaned "I need help." I thought it Harry, my next door neighbor. Harry is an old man, lives alone, and has some pretty serious medical problems.
I peeked out the window and couldn't see anybody. This was unusual because Harry always stands back from the door. So I weighed my options. If it wasn't Harry, I had my gun in my hand, and whoever it was probably had no idea of the hell I could unleash on them. 18 rounds of 9 x19 Black Talons in 3.5 seconds anyone? If it was Harry, there was no way I could leave him out there. Mr. Harry helped me quite a bit when I moved to Columbia, and I feel that I am somewhat in his debt, not to mention that he is my next door neighbor, which carries an obligation in it's own right.
I unlatched the deadbolt, and turned the door knob, at which point the person on the other side of the door started pushing the door open!! I had my foot right behind the door, so it couldn't be slammed open, and whoever was on the other side was pushing on the door. I shifted and slammed my shoulder into the door as hard as I could to get the door closed again.
At this point, the person on the other side of the door started crying. Definitely an old man. Did I just maim Harry? Keep in mind, I'm 29, and Harry has got to be 80, just had a hip replacement, and takes about 4 minutes to traverse the 100 feet between our houses.
I slowly opened the door, keeping my gun hand hidden behind the door frame. Standing, or wobbling, before me, was the drunk that lives at the end of the street. Apparently when I unbolted the door, he had been leaning against it for balance.
He wanted to use the phone because his old lady had kicked him out, after "she dun bit me on the arm, an' punched me in the mouf", and he needed a place to spend the night. So I closed and bolted the door, grabbed my cell phone, and returned, where I dialed the number for him, and got to listen to him tell his friend what had happened nine or twelve times. (At this point, I noticed that blood had started streaming down the side of his I face. I think I did that with the door.) He tried to step through the doorway several times. Each time I commanded him to step back. The one time he didn't do what I told him to do, I shoved him back about three feet with a palm to the sternum. After he finished the phone call, he thanked me, and offered to mow my lawn for me. I said "No thanks" and wished him a more pleasant evening.
The whole time I had my Glock in my hand, and I don't think he ever realized I had it. Most people, when seeing a gun unexpectedly, end up staring at it. He never even looked at my hand. The whole time I was either holding it behind my body, or behind the doorframe. I think I did an OK job. I used my voice to control him, by telling him to step back from the door, etc. I used measured but instantaneous aggressive violence when I thought he was pushing the door open. Considering I had a gun in my hand, and probably would have been justified in hosing the guy when he pushed on the door, and all I did was slam the door closed (HARD!), I think my response was well measured. I kept my trump card concealed the whole time, but ready for instantaneous use. Mr. Harry thinks this guy is responsible for some local burglaries, and, if the drunk even remembers the encounter, I'm sure I have left a strong impression on him.
The down side is that I weigh at least 70 pounds more than the guy, I'm at least 5 inches taller and I am at least 30 years younger. If I had shot the man, and ended up standing next to him in front of a jury, the big question would have been, did I really have to shoot someone I could have easily physically dominated? Of course, the answer is that I was in reasonable fear for my life. When someone tries to force their way into your house in the middle of the night...
Do you have any idea how hard it is to sleep when you have the adrenaline shakes?
I almost shot someone last night.
I was lying in bed reading around 12:20, when I heard a knock on my back door. I inquired "Who's There!!" "!" and didn't hear a response, but the person knocked again. I grabbed the ol' GLOCKenspiel, and walked to the door.
When the person knocked again, I again asked who it was. The person on the other side of the door groaned "I need help." I thought it Harry, my next door neighbor. Harry is an old man, lives alone, and has some pretty serious medical problems.
I peeked out the window and couldn't see anybody. This was unusual because Harry always stands back from the door. So I weighed my options. If it wasn't Harry, I had my gun in my hand, and whoever it was probably had no idea of the hell I could unleash on them. 18 rounds of 9 x19 Black Talons in 3.5 seconds anyone? If it was Harry, there was no way I could leave him out there. Mr. Harry helped me quite a bit when I moved to Columbia, and I feel that I am somewhat in his debt, not to mention that he is my next door neighbor, which carries an obligation in it's own right.
I unlatched the deadbolt, and turned the door knob, at which point the person on the other side of the door started pushing the door open!! I had my foot right behind the door, so it couldn't be slammed open, and whoever was on the other side was pushing on the door. I shifted and slammed my shoulder into the door as hard as I could to get the door closed again.
At this point, the person on the other side of the door started crying. Definitely an old man. Did I just maim Harry? Keep in mind, I'm 29, and Harry has got to be 80, just had a hip replacement, and takes about 4 minutes to traverse the 100 feet between our houses.
I slowly opened the door, keeping my gun hand hidden behind the door frame. Standing, or wobbling, before me, was the drunk that lives at the end of the street. Apparently when I unbolted the door, he had been leaning against it for balance.
He wanted to use the phone because his old lady had kicked him out, after "she dun bit me on the arm, an' punched me in the mouf", and he needed a place to spend the night. So I closed and bolted the door, grabbed my cell phone, and returned, where I dialed the number for him, and got to listen to him tell his friend what had happened nine or twelve times. (At this point, I noticed that blood had started streaming down the side of his I face. I think I did that with the door.) He tried to step through the doorway several times. Each time I commanded him to step back. The one time he didn't do what I told him to do, I shoved him back about three feet with a palm to the sternum. After he finished the phone call, he thanked me, and offered to mow my lawn for me. I said "No thanks" and wished him a more pleasant evening.
The whole time I had my Glock in my hand, and I don't think he ever realized I had it. Most people, when seeing a gun unexpectedly, end up staring at it. He never even looked at my hand. The whole time I was either holding it behind my body, or behind the doorframe. I think I did an OK job. I used my voice to control him, by telling him to step back from the door, etc. I used measured but instantaneous aggressive violence when I thought he was pushing the door open. Considering I had a gun in my hand, and probably would have been justified in hosing the guy when he pushed on the door, and all I did was slam the door closed (HARD!), I think my response was well measured. I kept my trump card concealed the whole time, but ready for instantaneous use. Mr. Harry thinks this guy is responsible for some local burglaries, and, if the drunk even remembers the encounter, I'm sure I have left a strong impression on him.
The down side is that I weigh at least 70 pounds more than the guy, I'm at least 5 inches taller and I am at least 30 years younger. If I had shot the man, and ended up standing next to him in front of a jury, the big question would have been, did I really have to shoot someone I could have easily physically dominated? Of course, the answer is that I was in reasonable fear for my life. When someone tries to force their way into your house in the middle of the night...
Do you have any idea how hard it is to sleep when you have the adrenaline shakes?